


Unexpected Circumstances

by MorphineFangs



Category: Naruto
Genre: I mean there isn't any yet but I'm a junkie for it so it's gonna happen, Izuna is a Brat, M/M, MadaTobi if you squint later, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, but as the main focus is literal smol child Izuna that's gonna be background noise sO
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-18 15:25:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12390876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorphineFangs/pseuds/MorphineFangs
Summary: The idea here was that somehow, someway, Izuna was revived... but he's a small child.  And nobody really knows where he came from.  He just popped up one day.  And he's a menace, and really Madarawisheshe had the time to spend with his brother, truly he does.  But he doesn't.  Being a clan leader is more stressful and time consuming than he'd ever have believed, and seldom is there time to spend with a five-year-old Izuna.  Good thing Tobirama likes children, then.  Right?  Right.





	1. Ramatan

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not have been encouraged by malazuzu22 to post this... um. Hi  
> This will have multiple chapters, but it's probably going to be super disjointed, as I didn't have a particular plot in mind. It was more of a 'what if child Izuna existed at the same time as adult Tobirama and adult Madara'. I don't even know. This was my attempt at something cute and relatively light.
> 
> There shouldn't be... too much angst. I mean, other than what you'll catch here and there of the whole 'yeah you kind of killed my brother and I'm kind of still messed up over that even though he's technically alive again' stuff.

“Oi!  Senju bastard!  You take care of kids all the time, and you’ve already got one Uchiha.  Want another?”

He’d sensed Madara coming of course, but this was… quite the peculiar way to start a conversation.  He wasn’t entirely sure what to expect.

Reasonably, Tobirama quirked a perfect brow and replied with scathing indifference, “I don’t babysit adults.”

Madara openly sputtered, face reddening, “Not _me_ , you damn imbecile— _him_ ,” and without further preamble, shoved forward the small Uchiha child who’d been hiding behind Madara and clinging to his shirt.

The boy had wide innocent eyes, and pleasantly effeminate features.

Tobirama stared blankly.  Of course he’d noticed the boy’s chakra immediately, but with the core so underdeveloped despite the familiarity of the chakra itself, he’d marked it off as his imagination.

But now that he was _looking_ … he looked like…

“Izuna?”

The small boy grinned widely, and Tobirama could kick himself.  How dare he be this cute?

“Ramatan!  Good morning!” the boy greeted.

“My name isn’t…” he gave pause when the boy’s bottom lip jutted and quivered in the classic pout small children were known for, and there came the shine of unshed tears in his eyes, “very well, you may call me… Ramatan…”

It practically burned him to say the ridiculous nickname he’d suddenly acquired.  He swore to himself if Madara dared make fun of him, he’d let that arrogant Uchiha ‘ride’ his Suiryūdan no Jutsu.

That adorable smile was back in an instant.  Then the kid threw himself forward and hugged Tobirama.  He awkwardly pat… Izuna’s… head.

This was… different.

Tobirama looked up only to catch Madara glaring at him with no small amount of suspicion.

“I’m not going to kill your brother, if that’s what you’re thinking.  Relax,” Tobirama told him succinctly.  He’d never been one to beat around bushes.

“But… before…” Madara said.  Protested, really.

Tobirama sighed, pat Izuna’s head again when the boy attempted to merge his face with Tobirama’s clothing, “That was then.  We were at war.  Contrary to what you may believe, I don’t kill without reason.  Especially not a child.  If you didn’t trust me, why did you bring him here?”

“I had— hoped,” Madara said, averting his gaze, “his current state would endear him to you this time around.”

“Ah,” Tobirama nodded, as if he’d expected this all along.  Which, to be fair, he had.  “Do you know how he—?”

“I— uh, don’t.  I have to go!  Clan leader stuff.  Have fun!”

With that, the damn Uchiha head absconded the area.  Eyes narrowed, Tobirama cursed under his breath.  He’d been tricked, he knew.

Tobirama looked down to the boy, staring up at him with wide obsidian eyes, “You can behave yourself while I’m working on a new jutsu, can’t you?”

Izuna gave him a tiny smile this time and nodded.  Tobirama reminded himself he was the proud younger brother to the Senju clan head, and that he would absolutely _not_ squeal like a young girl over a kitten.  He succeeded at this, but it was a near thing.

“Good.”


	2. He Gets Lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shenanigans ensue.

“The brat’s been causing trouble again.”

“Hm?”  Tobirama looked up with a quirk of his brow.  It was an expression he was particularly good at making, which somehow achieved conveying a feeling of both interest and disinterest simultaneously.

He had very much paperwork to go through while his brother was away on village business, and did not appreciate needless interruptions.  Of course, he had no delusions about just who the ‘brat’ in question was.

“Izuna, of course!  Just yesterday, he used some sort of jutsu on the public baths that turned anyone who got in the water pink!”

It was hard not to fight his smirk, and Tobirama did exhale through his nose in a way that may have passed for a laugh, “Is that why you’ve been wearing gloves recently?”

Madara snatched his hands out of sight, hiding them behind his back as he seethed, “Shut up.”

“You know,” Tobirama said, idly picking at his nails, “he may be younger than before, but he’s still your brother.”

“I know, I just… he…” 

Tobirama dared to look up when Madara trailed off, and felt a brief twinge of regret by doing so.  The utter torment on Madara’s face was painful to look at.  

Tobirama tore his gaze away, focused on some ridiculous painting of the mountains Hashirama had decided was just the added touch needed in his office.  He’d told his brother it was ridiculous, of course, but privately he did like it quite a lot.  It wouldn’t have remained on his wall otherwise.

“Nevertheless,” Tobirama said when he’d regained his bearings, “I can take him off your hands, I suppose.  I’ll see about fixing your little bathhouse problem, as well.”

He was proud to say the only thing that gave away his amusement at Madara’s predicament was the gleeful glint in his eyes.  Aside from that little shine, his features remained emotionless.  In contrast, Madara himself wore a bitter expression.

“I’ll send him over right away,” Madara ground out.

“See that you do.  He gets mischievous when he’s lonely.”

As if rehearsed, just as Tobirama had finished speaking, there came the sound of a small explosion in the near distance.  Soon after followed the shouted,  _ “IZUNAAA!!!” _

Madara paled before jumping right out the window in search for his wayward gremlin of a brother.


	3. Picking Favorites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madara gets a little jealous. But you know, he should've seen this coming when he pawned Izuna off on Tobirama the very first day.

“He talks about you, you know.”

Tobirama, who’d been working on paperwork (when wasn’t he?), glanced up, “Hm?”

“You know,” Madara scowled, “I just don’t get it.  He’s  _ my _ brother, so why’s he talking about  _ you  _ all the time?”

Tobirama hummed noncommittally, returning his attention to the paperwork.  Quickly read the the last paragraph before signing his name at the bottom, saying as he did so, “You’re jealous?”

“I’m not jealous.  Not really,” Madara replied, much too quickly.  From the corner of his eye, Tobirama saw the man gnaw at his lip thoughtfully.  “I may be a little jealous.”

If Tobirama felt even the slightest twinge of surprise at Madara’s sporadic attempt at honesty, he didn’t let it show.  Instead of commenting, he set the signed document aside before leafing through the stack and moving to the next.  Madara silently watched him work for a few moments.

“It never bothered me before,” Madara said, rather abruptly, causing Tobirama’s pen to pause in its motions, “not being so good with children, I mean.  But that’s my brother.  Back before— we used to be so close, like twins.  Now he’s a five-year-old, and I'm twenty, and it’s like I don’t even know him anymore.  He’s got Izuna’s face, but… is Izuna really…”

Tobirama scowled  _ very slightly _ at the paragraph he was reading for the third time over, and knew he wasn’t going to be able to finish this until he actually talked to Madara.  He carefully set his pen down beside the stack.  Looked up at Madara with his undivided attention.

“Madara,” he said, “you need to understand, that while he  _ is _ your brother, he  _ won’t _ be the same as before.  That child doesn’t know war.  He doesn’t know loss, or at least not as deeply as the Izuna you are used to has known.  For all intents and purposes, this is Izuna untainted by the cruelty we were steeped in.  It isn’t a bad thing.”

Madara stared with wide eyes as Tobirama finished what was most likely the longest speech he’d aimed directly at the Uchiha head.  Never before had the younger Senju brother strung together so many words for him, and him alone.  Maybe not even for many others, save Tobirama’s older brother.  Somewhere in the back of his mind, Madara had the decency to feel flattered.

Yet, all Madara managed to reply with was a soft, “Oh.”

Tobirama sighed with a roll of his eyes.  Rose from his seat as he brushed off imaginary dust from his clothing and stepped forward to grab hold of Madara’s wrist, “Well, come on.  Time to spend quality time with your little brother.”

“Wait, huh?!  What about your paperwork—?!”  Madara protested, tugging lightly on his wrist.  Though, he wasn’t fooling Tobirama or himself.  If he really wanted Tobirama to let go, he’d already be loose.

“You’re maddeningly distracting.  As much as it pains me to admit it, I hate to see you moping around my desk,” Tobirama muttered, “if this shuts up that horridly pitiful whining, a short break won’t kill me.”

“I was not moping,” Madara replied indignantly.

“I beg to differ.  You could’ve given Hashirama a run for his money.”

“D-Don’t compare me to that buffoon!”

“Quit making it so easy to do, and perhaps I’ll consider,” he said, pushing open the front door of building.

Tobirama closed his eyes to shield them from the blinding sunlight, but pretended it was just for focusing on chakra signatures, parsing together Izuna’s residual signature.  He should’ve expected finding him at the playground of all places.

The Senju tugged Madara behind him at an accelerated pace toward Izuna’s location.  He ignored the Uchiha’s progressively more creative insults as they went.  The sooner they got this over with, the sooner he could get back to his paperwork.

Of course, the moment they arrived on the playground, Izuna (bundle of joy that he was) looked up from the ground and right at them.  Pretty good sensory skills for a five-year-old, if Tobirama was handing out compliments.  

Izuna hopped up from the swing, “Ramatan!  Brother!” 

“Hello, Izuna,” Tobirama greeted as Izuna leapt into his arms, forcing him to let go of Madara’s wrist.  He could already see Madara taking offense at the favoritism.

“Did you finish work early, Ramatan?” Izuna asked excitedly.  “Please say yes!”

“Actually…” Tobirama said, playing up a regretful expression, “I’m afraid I’ll be occupied for a few hours yet.  Your big brother is free, however.  That’s why I brought him here.”

Izuna eyed his brother speculatively from where he had his head tucked under Tobirama’s chin, “Really?”

“Mhmm.  He’s been brooding all day in my office about how jealous he is that I’m hogging up all your time.”

“I  _ was not _ brooding!!”

Izuna snickered softly, “Big brother missed me a lot, huh?”

“He sure did.  So what do you say?  Want to spend time with Madara today?”

Izuna hummed, as if considering the thought, but Tobirama knew his mind was already made up.  For all that Izuna liked to act like Tobirama was his new favorite person, he’d always love his brother most.  They both just needed a little push in the right direction.

Well.  Maybe Madara needed a big push.  Potato, tomato, as the saying goes.

He could still see the way Madara waited with bated breath while Izuna ‘considered’ the offer.  Madara was so far out of touch with his brother in this form, he couldn’t even tell the kid was pulling his leg.  Tobirama almost felt bad for him— almost.

Madara had interrupted one two many experiments of Tobirama’s and ‘accidentally’ set his office on fire one too many times for the Senju to feel sympathy toward him over something so trivial.

“Okay,” Izuna finally said, in a faux put-upon way, “I  _ guess _ I can humor big brother this once.  He can help me blow up that mean old lady’s tomato garden!”

Tobirama frowned, turning his full attention to the small boy in his arms, “What?”

“I-I mean, we can go hiking!” Izuna corrected nervously.

“Acceptable,” Tobirama nodded, looking to Madara, “he’s all yours.”

Madara’s eyes widened as Izuna was handed off to him, but he did manage not to drop his own brother… so he deserved a few points for that one.

Izuna gleefully hugged his older brother, wrapping his arms around his neck and tugging at Madara’s wild mane of black hair with tiny fists.  To his credit, the elder Uchiha endured it.

Tobirama fixed the man with a cold glare, “If I find out you let him blow up Elder Mori’s garden, I will string you by your toenails from the Hokage Mountain.”

Madara shuddered, “You wouldn’t!”

Tobirama’s stare remained unnervingly steady.  He could be a very serious person, and also remarkably skilled at bluffing.  One honestly couldn’t have said which circumstance this was.

“I trust you to make good decisions, Madara,” he said sweetly, and he knew the tone wasn’t fitting for one such as he— that was the idea, “have fun.”

Tobirama didn’t bother with walking all the way back.  Instead, he used Hiraishin to arrive in his office instantaneously.  Abusing his power?  Perhaps.  Though he did invent the ability.  If he wanted to take liberties and be lazy sometimes, then dammit, he would.

Madara for once in his miserable life, attempted to use his chakra sensory skills, just to be  _ absolutely certain _ Tobirama was gone (or at the very least, out of hearing range).  Only once he was sure of this did he turn a mischievous grin toward his little brother.

“So, blowing up Mori’s tomato garden is a no… but I’ve got a different prank in mind.  You interested?”

Izuna nodded enthusiastically.


	4. Childish Antics Have No Age Limit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prank has unexpected results.
> 
> [Sorry for the long wait. Life stuff happened and I only had the energy to draw and sleep.]

Tobirama glanced up as his clock struck noon.  That was… odd.  Judging by the time of year, the sun wasn’t in the proper position in the sky yet for noon.  Somehow, his clock wasn’t properly set.

Checking the sun again, he stepped around his desk to approach the clock on the wall.  However as his hand neared the clock, he noticed another peculiar occurrence.  Though it was a subtle one Tobirama had a ward set for this clock, in case someone other than himself were to tamper with it.  The ward had been tripped.

After disarming the neon orange paint bomb trap inside his clock, Tobirama finally managed to reset his clock to the correct time.  

There.  That was one nuisance dealt with.  Admittedly, he hadn’t expected Izuna to be so bold as to attempt a prank on _him_ — influence of Madara, perhaps?— but the attempt had been unsuccessful.  No use dwelling on that for now.

“Brother, it didn’t work,” Izuna whined from their shared hiding spot, “I thought you said it would be funny for sure.”

Madara chuckled softly and ruffled his little brother’s hair, “Patience, Izuna.  Tobirama is a skilled ninja.  Almost as skilled as myself.  If we want to catch him off guard, we’re going to have to be crafty…”

Years at war meant Tobirama was a very paranoid individual.  If they wanted to _truly_ catch him off guard, it was definitely going to take more than one attempt.  That was why the clock trap wasn’t the _only_ trap he’d set up.

“Do you really think we can get him?”  Izuna asked hopefully.

Madara nodded, “Of course we can.  Now come on, our real surprise isn’t here.  By now, Hashirama and Mito should be out of the house.”

“Ohh, what are we going to do there?”

He simply pat his brother’s head, “You’ll see.”

* * *

 

It was bright and early in the morning when Madara and Izuna’s _real_ trap took hold.  As Madara had assured his younger brother, it was patience that truly won this sort of game.

That, and a little cunning Tobirama wouldn’t have pegged him to be the type for.  Izuna?  Maybe.  But Izuna was five.  He wouldn’t expect Izuna’s plans to be quite so complex yet (and they weren’t).

Sometime during the day, they’d managed to spring a trap on the Senju that would block his sense of smell.  Mere pollen that would clog the olfactory senses and essentially mimic a pesky case of hay fever.  This of course was more or less harmless so long as Tobirama wasn’t going out on a mission any time soon.

This wasn’t the real prank, but a prelude to pave the way for the next.

It would take time for this one to take hold… but that bastard had white hair, and if it was as soft as Madara fantasized— er, _predicted_ — this shouldn’t be an issue.  And just for good measure, Madara figured, why not revamp Tobirama’s closet for him?

Izuna’s light snickering from his side made the trespassing and vandalism all worth it.

As gazed into Tobirama’s closet though, it occurred to him he hadn’t quite thought far enough ahead for this particular phase of the prank.  Tutting to himself, Madara looked back around in the room until his eyes settled on an inconspicuous pair of scissors left out on Tobirama’s desk.

How convenient.

Madara smirked devilishly.  Perfect.

Madara chuckled to himself as he wrote out some paperwork.  Izuna was by his side, scribbling away at a color by number picture (Madara idly noted Izuna was deliberately using the wrong colors).  He’d taken it upon himself to keep watch of Izuna today, predicting Tobirama would be a little less than pleased with the both of them.

What he hadn’t predicted, of course, was that the Senju would appear in his office… _hours_ after opening time as if it were any other day.

Hair a hot pink that surprisingly didn’t clash with crimson eyes and somehow achieved a pretty candy effect, the man wore his usual fishnet shirt under a deep navy shirt that was crudely cropped an inch or so above the navel.

It was upon this moment, as Izuna giggled and continued his unorthodox coloring, that Madara realized he’d fucked up.

The Senju did that _damn thing_ where he quirked his stupid perfect brow, and Madara’s heart seized painfully in his chest.

“Oh, hell,” was all he managed to say.   _He’s hot._

“What?” Tobirama asked as he set down some paperwork on Madara’s desk that his older brother had sent him over with.

“Nothing!”

Then the strangest thing happened.  Tobirama’s brow furrowed in concern.  He leaned over Madara’s desk, placing a hand to his cheek.  That callused yet smooth hand slowly slid up the curve of his cheek, over his temple, until Tobirama’s palm rested on Madara’s forehead.  Madara held his breath.

“I think you have a fever.  Are you feeling unwell?”

He had to be messing with Madara, that had to be it.  There was absolutely no way he was this dense.  It was payback, Madara was sure of it.

Izuna giggled as he held a coloring pencil up to Madara’s face.  There came a pause before he grinned widely.

“Big brother’s face is as red as this pencil!”

“I-I don’t have a fever!  I’m fine!” he said, acutely aware of how defensive he sounded.  He slapped away Tobirama and Izuna’s hands in quick succession (though being notably more gentle with his brother).

“You sure?  I could take care of the paperwork and watch Izuna if you want to go home and rest,” Tobirama offered, to any innocent bystander presenting the image of the concerned friend.

Madara didn’t buy it for one minute.

“I said I’m fine!  Leave me alone!” he snapped, and pointed toward the door the now brightly colored man had entered through. “Back from whence you came, foul demon!”

At the exclamation, both the Senju’s pale brows rose to meet his hairline, but he nonetheless conceded.  Or mostly did.  He did, however, pause at the doorway and turn to look back at the Uchiha with a smirk like the cat that got the cream but decided to also eat the canary just out of spite.

It was absolutely terrifying.

“Oh, by the way, I must say I’m fond of the new outfit.  I daresay, I’m surprised by how good I look in pink.  Although I could’ve done without being poisoned yesterday.  Honestly, Madara, if you wanted me to change my wardrobe, all you had to do is ask.”

As the door to his office closed, Madara slammed his face into his desk and let out a sound that for all intents and purposes was a glorified screech.

Izuna was tittering at his side as he switched from his coloring book to a word search.

He happily scribbled around the page as he said, “Ohh, you like-like him.”

“I do not _like-like_ him!!”

Madara had no idea Tobirama was still standing outside his doorway and had heard every word.


End file.
